


Take Care of Me and I'll Take Care of You

by howthemoonsuitsthenightsky



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Illnesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howthemoonsuitsthenightsky/pseuds/howthemoonsuitsthenightsky
Summary: Lucas is determined to make the most of his and Eliott's day together, his body has other plans.





	Take Care of Me and I'll Take Care of You

Lucas can tell that something is off as he falls asleep. There’s an itch at the back of his throat that doesn’t go away, no matter how much water he drinks. There’s a pulsing coming from the left side of his head, somewhere in between his eye and his ear, that remains whether he lets it breathe by laying on his right or tries to subdue it by pushing that side deeper into his pillow. There’s a tingling in his nose that doesn’t go away when he moves to scratch it. Still, Lucas pushes for sleep, hoping that it will pass by itself. Between their schoolwork, parents and friends, tomorrow is the first day that Eliott and Lucas will be able to spend together, and Lucas will be damned if anything gets in the way of it. 

When Lucas wakes, he feels as if he’s been asleep for mere seconds, rather than the probable hours, which he would guess from the slight hues of light coming in from behind the curtains and the fact that Eliott’s body has shifted, as it so often does, so that it’s facing away from Lucas’ and is instead hugging the pillow beside him. Lucas rolls his eyes and moves to sit up, with the intention of turning his boyfriend over in his sleep, to make Lucas the little spoon rather than one of Eliott’s pillows.

As he raises his head, he can feel the blood suddenly drain out of it. He collapses back down, head hitting his own pillow with more force than he would have liked. He tries to take a breath in through his nose but finds that he can only get half the amount of air he needs, the rest being caught up in an unpleasant sound that travels from his nostrils down to his throat. He splutters and coughs, bringing a hand up to his mouth, his chest raising slightly off the bed.

“Lucas,” Eliott mumbles, his voice heavy with sleep. One of his hands move backwards and brushes against Lucas’ leg through the duvet.

Lucas opens his mouth to reply, but only finds himself coughing again, each one forcing his chest to contract in a sickening way. 

Eliott, having sat up and fully turned around, gently places a hand on Lucas’ back and guides him so that he’s sitting, half-leaning onto Eliott, one shoulder pressed firmly into the older boy’s chest, his head close to his boyfriend’s shoulder. Eliott begins to move his hand in circles on Lucas’ back until the coughing subsides. Only then does he draw back so that he can look at Lucas in the dim light.

“Are you alright?” Lucas can sense the concern in his boyfriend’s voice, aided by the motion of Eliott’s hand across his back, bringing calm to him, but speaking of the worry on Eliott’s behalf. 

“I think so,” Lucas manages to whisper, his voice hoarse from the rawness of his throat. Eliott reaches his free hand out for the glass of water he keeps on the nightstand on Lucas’ side of his bed, bringing the younger boy in closer to his chest momentarily as he does so. Lucas expects to be greeted by Eliott’s familiar scent, but instead finds nothing but the feeling of his cotton t-shirt against his nose. 

Glass of water in hand, Lucas begins to sip eagerly, but is abruptly interrupted by Eliott’s swift hand pulling the container away from him. “No, no, no,” Eliott intersects. “Coughing I can deal with at,” he pauses to put the glass down on his own nightstand, “half past six in the morning, but not throwing up, please.” He lets out a small chuckle, which Lucas tries to reciprocate, though the longer he’s upright, the harder it’s becoming to focus on Eliott’s words. 

“I feel,” Lucas begins, searching for the right word or phrase, but only managing to come up with something his mum would scold him for, “absolutely shit.” He lets his eyes close, becoming instantly grateful for the lack of light it brings.

He feels the back of Eliott’s hand press carefully onto his forehead. “You’re feeling a bit warm as well.” Eliott replaces the back of his palm with his lips, planting a small kiss between Lucas’ eyebrows. “I’ll go get you some paracetamol, okay?”

Not wanting to risk another coughing fit by replying properly, Lucas only nods, not eluding to the fact that there is almost nothing he hates more than swallowing tablets. Before he leaves the bed, Eliott helps to guide Lucas so that he is sitting with his back against the headboard, his lower back slightly propped up by the pillow he had been sleeping on.   
As Eliott returns to the room, his weight compressing the mattress as he sits down, Lucas reopens his eyes and shakily holds a hand out for the tablets that are popped out of their plastic packaging into his hand. Taking the glass of water in the other, he slowly moves his hand closer to his mouth to lower the tablets in. 

“You don’t like taking tablets, do you?” Eliott’s interruption is welcomed by Lucas, who gladly lowers his hand onto his lap. 

“I hate it,” Lucas admits. “I normally have the kid’s stuff or go without.” He rushes out his words with a shrug, trying to beat any impending coughs or splutters. 

“We’ll swallow at the same time,” Eliott suggests, ignoring the confused looks from his boyfriend. He picks up his own glass of water and shifts himself on the bed so that his face is in front of Lucas’. “So, you put one tablet on your tongue and then just copy me. Just focus on that and not what you’re actually trying to do.”

Lucas lets himself nod, despite being sceptical about how well Eliott’s method will work. He places one of the white tablets on the centre of his tongue as instructed and waits for Eliott to make his move. As soon as Eliott raises his glass to his lips, Lucas does the same. The water gets tipped into their mouths almost synchronously. Eliott proceeds to move the glass away from his lips and connect the two boy’s eyes in the way that only he can. The next thing Lucas knows, he is swallowing, the mechanism of copying not letting him remember the tablet until it is already halfway down his throat. 

Eliott lets out a sly smile as Lucas begins his natural response to swallowing a tablet successfully, even more coughing. “See.” The right corner of his lips pulls up towards his eyelashes.

“That was definitely magic,” Lucas says, some of the grogginess of his throat having been cleared by the water. 

“I wish,” Eliott laughs in reply. “If I had magic, I would make it so you never needed to swallow tablets in the first place.” Lucas feels himself nodding, the sudden movement of his head changing the blood flow between his neck and skull, causing his to hiss in pain. “Okay, okay,” Eliott’s voice comes out rushed and panicked. Lucas can feel one hand being placed on his shoulder and another on his stomach. “I think you need to lie back down and get some more rest.”

“Uh-huh.” The mumbled sound escapes Lucas’ lips as he lets himself be guided back down onto the bed. His eyes rush open again as he remembers the special day they had planned. “Fuck, we were supposed to do so much today.” He fights back the cough building up in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Eliott whispers as he lowers himself so that his forehead brushes against Lucas’, their noses skimming together. “All those times you’ve taken care of me, you’ve given up so much for me, and,” he pauses to take a breath, “now it’s time for me to take care of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this during hell week part 2 to give myself some rest bite from the angst. Now it can, hopefully, contribute to the fluff we'll be getting.


End file.
